


Oh fuck. I like you?

by all_hail_the_witcher



Category: Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: "hate eachother", Enemies to Lovers, M/M, Minor Injuries, albert is a skateboarder bro, everyone else is there too pretty much, if you dont know what that is dont worry about it, jack needs to buy pretzels that aren't stale, kinda ??, like concussion, mush is Done With Everyones Shit, mush is too sober for these fools, no one is dead tho, o there is One brief mention of death, oh its fluff, on tumblr, posted circa december 2018, race and albert hate eachother, race is just making a joke, there may be a very very brief reference to albert eats glass, this is technically a christmas fic, wink wink hint hint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-03
Updated: 2020-05-03
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:40:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23986216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/all_hail_the_witcher/pseuds/all_hail_the_witcher
Summary: Race hates Albert. Albert hates Race. At least, that's what they think. But when Albert doesn't show up to Jack's Christmas party Race finds himself strangely worried.Originally titled "i like you, you idiot" and posted on my tumblr account
Relationships: Albert DaSilva/Racetrack Higgins
Kudos: 31





	Oh fuck. I like you?

Race idly pelted Romeo with stale pretzels from the bowl Jack had placed on the counter while the smells of Christmas dinner wafted around him. 

“Stop thattttt,” Romeo whined, grabbing a paper plate from the stack next to him to shield from Race’s relentless pretzel tossing. “I know Albert isn’t here for you to annoy but you can’t take it out on me.”

Race rolled his eyes but paused his pelting long enough for Romeo to turn around before wailing one last pretzel at him. 

“HEY!” Romeo yelled, whipping around to face Race, who was now crying of laughter. “Racetrack Higgins, I’m gonna get you for that!”

Race waved off his threat. “You couldn’t hit the broad side of a barn if you tried.” It was true, Romeo was a lover, not a fighter.

Romeo humphed in frustration, laying his head down on the counter just as Jack walked by in his trademark neon red and green ugly Christmas tree sweater. “Hey, Jack,” he asked, “when’s Dasilva getting here? I don’t know how much more of Race’s pretzel beating I can take.”

“Uhhhhh….” Jack trailed off, looking toward Davey, clearly having no idea of the answer.

Davey glanced at the clock as he placed Race’s homemade lasagna into the oven for reheating. He frowned. “He should have been here an hour ago.”

“It’s not like him to be this late,” Jack frowned, joining Race and Romeo at the counter. “I’m gonna call him.”

“Suit yourself,” Race shrugged, popping a stale pretzel in his mouth - maybe he should just stick to throwing them, who knew how long they had been in Jack’s cabinet. 

Now it was Romeo’s turn to roll his eyes. Race could tell he wanted to say something, but he remained quiet as he watched Jack wait patiently for Albert to pick up.

A few moments later though, he placed his phone down in defeat. “I got nothing.”

“Ha!” Race laughed, leaning back on his stool so it was only balancing on two legs. “Maybe he got in a car accident and died. Serves him right, that idiot. I always knew I would outlive him.”

“Race!” Romeo shrieked, whacking him on the arm and making him lose his balance so he fell off his stool. “That’s not very nice!”

“Race, you take that back right now,” Davey sighed, walking over to them as he pulled off his oven mitts. “I don’t know why the two of you hate eachother so much, but that was highly uncalled for.”

Race opened his mouth to respond when he was interrupted by Mush skidding into the kitchen, closely followed by Blink and Specs. 

“What happened? Who fell? Can’t we have one injury free gathering? Do I need to call 911?” Mush rambled, taking in the scene.

“Nah,” Race said. “Romeo pushed me off my stool cause he was mad that I said Dasilva was dead. No 911 tonight, sorry to disappoint.”

“Albert’s dead?” Mush’s voice went down several octaves.

“No! No ones dead!” Davey said quickly, banging his hands on the counter for emphasis. “He’s just an hour late and he’s not answering his phone.”

“That’s unusual, even for him,” Blink frowned as Mush called over his shoulder rather loudly.

“YO! ANYONE HEARD FROM AL?” 

There was a chorus of “no” followed by a few more of their friends drifting into the kitchen to find out what was going on. No one noticed that Race had quietly slipped out of the living room and onto the fire escape.

He sat down on the cold metal, not minding the chill, and reached into his pocket for a cigarette. He hesitated lighting it though and instead opted to twirl it around in his fingers absently. For some reason, being in there, hearing everyone talk about where Albert might be, bothered him. No, not bothered. It made him uncomfortable. 

Race groaned and slammed his head against the railing a few times. Why was the thought of Albert potentially being hurt making him uncomfortable? 

“Stupid, stupid, stupid,” he muttered, continuing to bang his head on the railing. “Just go in there and make another joke. He’s a stupid idiot, he shouldn’t be able to make you feel things.”

Sadly, pep talks had never been Race’s strong suit and as his half assed motivational monologue fizzled out he instead opted to shove the still unlit cigarette into his mouth and chew on it until he smashed the filter to pieces. 

He had smashed his way through three cigarette filters when he noticed a figure on the street below stumbling around aimlessly. Ha, dumbass drunk, he scoffed internally. 

Then the figure stumbled under a streetlight and Race caught sight of a flash of red hair, a skateboard and a dismal fashion sense. 

“Albert?” Race whispered, dropping his shredded cigarette without a second thought. 

It was Albert, Race could tell by the patches on his jean jacket. Without a second thought, he climbed nimbly over the side of the fire escape and down to the street.

“Hey, Al!” He called, jumping down onto the sidewalk. “Whatcha doin out here bro? People are in there thinking you’re dead, well that was mostly just me, but Mush, Mush is having a connipshit fit in there.”

Al stumbled again, pausing to lean against a lamppost. “Where are the stars, Tony?” He mumbled. “Are they hiding?”

The crappy jokes Race was about to utter died on his tongue and he walked closer. “Al, buddy are you okay? You never call me Tony…” Race trailed off as he caught sight of a red stain on the collar of Albert’s jacket and a matching one on his forehead. “Al, are you okay?”

“The chipmunks are coming for us, Tony,” Albert said unhelpfully. “They will rule manhattan.”

“Yeah yeah,” Race said absently, beginning to guide Albert toward the building. He noticed that not only was he still clutching his skateboard but he was holding his right arm weirdly. “And I’m gonna be the king of New York, okay? Let’s get you inside.” He didn’t like how his stomach was flipping at the thought of Albert being hurt. 

With some difficulty, Race managed to guide Albert into the building, then the elevator and finally jacks apartment and onto the couch, all while listening to a very infesting story on the evolution of squirrels. 

“Hey, hey guys,” he said loudly, bursting into the screaming match that was the kitchen. “Sorry to interrupt, but I have our missing person in the living room complete with minimal damage and squirrel ramblings. I think he may be in need of medical attention.”

“I swear to god, Race if you beat him up just for the heck of it we are going to have words,” Mush exclaimed, materializing seemingly out of thin air as he hurdled over a very confused looking Romeo and into the living room. 

“No I swear it wasn't me!” Race exclaimed, following close behind Mush. “He was already beat up when I found him.”

“You know,” Albert piped up from the floor, “I’ve always wondered if crabs have ears, Tony.”

“Oh he definitely has a concussion,” Mush muttered, taking in the cut on his forehead. “I don't even have to do the tests, I just know.” He looked down further, investigating Albert’s shoulder. “And a dislocated shoulder. Man, I wonder what he did.”

“Why don't you just ask him?” Race said indifferently, trying to maintain his distaste for Albert. “Al, babe, how did you get hurt?”

“Babe?” Romeo hissed from next to him and Race elbowed him to shut up.

“Why are acorns that smell?” Albert babbled. “And where’s Tony I wanna give him a big smooch.”

“He wants to what now?” Jack asked, drawing closer. “He hates Race.”

“And he also never calls him Tony,” Davey added rather unhelpfully.

“Is anyone going to question the fact that there are literally no acorns in here?” Race asked.

Mush sighed. “Alright you hooligans. If you want to help, which I doubt some of you do, stop spurting nonsense about these two bros that are very seemingly secretly in love with each other and someone get me a towel, rubbing alcohol, a plaid shirt, gauze, medical tap, a needle and thread, rubber gloves and a bottle of Jack Daniels.”

“Why the Jack Daniels?” Romeo asked skeptically. “Using it to disinfect the wound?”

“No you shit,” Mush rolled his eyes. “I’m way too sober for this.”

Race watched the room dissolve in to semi organized chaos, thinking about what Mush had said. Was he in love with Albert? Well, it would certainly explain the years of pent up anger and physical fighting. And why he had felt so lost when he saw Albert wandering dazed under the street light. 

Curiosity effectively spiked, the sat down next to Albert to see if he shared the same feelings.

“Hey Al,” he said, “do you by any chance….like me?”

“Depends,” Al whispered back, “do you think Jack will let me eat one of his ornaments?”

“Alright,” Race said, opting instead to hold Albert’s hand. “I’m gonna try that question again in a few days when you're back to you again.”

“You're as pretty as a leg of lamb Tony,” Albert mumbled closing his eyes. “I just wanna snack on you.”

“Whatever you say pal,” Race laughed. “Whatever you say.”

**Author's Note:**

> Albert skateboarded into a pole :)
> 
> Thank you to mikey (@/papesdontsellthmselves on here and tumblr) and fizz (@/fizz on here and @/aw-jus-let-em-try on tumblr) for giving me things for concussed albert to say
> 
> comments and kudos are always appreciated!! come find me on tumblr -> @/suddenly-im-respecsable


End file.
